Like a Dream or a Ghost
by Eliana Panthera
Summary: A fate meeting at a bar. Jane wants to escape thoughts of Hoyt, and Ziva is there to cater to her wishes.  -Jane/Ziva- -Rizzoli & Isles/NCIS crossover-


**Title: **A Dream or a Ghost

**Genre: **Smut

**Rating: **NC-17

**Pairings: **Jane Rizzoli/Ziva David

**Summary: **A fate meeting at a bar. Jane wants to escape thoughts of Hoyt, and Ziva is there to cater to her wishes.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own either of these fandoms. Unfortunately.

**Author****'****s ****Notes: **I don't even know. Rizzoli & Isles/NCIS crossovers are fun, yo. Title is from a song by Bright Eyes.

XXX

Jane could feel someone watching her.

The detective was sitting on an uncomfortable barstool, one hand picking at the tattered old leather, the other cradling some sort of fruity cocktail. It was too sweet for her, but it was getting her drunk faster and she wanted nothing more than to forget. Her doctor would have a fit if he caught her drinking less than four weeks after being pinned to the floor with scalpels and almost killed by a maniac. But she didn't really give a fuck what her doctor thought.

Jane wasn't bothered by the presence of eyes taking her in. She could feel that the gaze wasn't malicious, like Hoyt sizing her up as he prepared to slowly drag a scalpel over the curve of her throat. Instead, it felt appreciative, and Jane honestly didn't mind being admired (Though she would never admit that to anyone).

Lazily, Jane took another sip of her drink and forced herself not to gag. If music by that obnoxious Justin Bieber kid had a taste, Jane had a feeling that this drink was it. It was far too sweet and sticky and gross, but she drank it anyway. She scanned the bar and the dance floor around it, half-searching for the person watching her.

It didn't take long. She eventually found a pair of warm, chocolate-colored eyes. Jane was slightly surprised to find that they belonged to a woman, but she wasn't truly bothered by it. Instead, she took the woman in. Her hair matched her eyes, dark tendrils falling into her face like secrets, smooth waves rolling down her neck and over her shoulders. She was leaning against a wall, sipping at a beer. A silky-looking, olive-colored dress hugged to her gratuitous curves.

Jane realized that she was staring back now, and it bothered her less than it should have. Thoughts of unzipping that dress were already leaking into her mind. She imagined how it would look, sliding to the ground at the woman's feet, pooling around her dark high heels. Jane shook her head slightly, trying to force those thoughts from her head. That wasn't something to be thinking about, especially since she was imagining undressing another _woman_.

But Jane couldn't help herself. The dark-haired woman was entrancing, and Jane found herself staring again. She wanted to know what noises would come past those beautiful lips if she caressed the woman's thighs. She wanted to feel a shuddering breath run through her stomach as she kissed the underside of her jaw. Jane simply had to look in the other woman's eyes, and she wanted all of her.

It startled her to find that the thoughts weren't bothering her. She had felt a slight pull to the same sex more than once, but she had waved it off as either curiosity or either simple admiration. But this was undeniable. She hadn't even spoken to the woman and lust was making her stomach ache. It had to be the alcohol.

A smirk spread across the woman's face, and Jane realized that she was approaching her. There was nowhere to turn and run. Instead, she simply sat there, holding herself with as much confidence as possible. She felt underdressed in her work shirt and dark jeans. Nervously, she ran her palms over her thighs, feeling the fabric under the scars. For an instant, she hoped that the other woman was just coming over to order a drink.

Her hopes were dashed when the other woman sat on the barstool next to her, still smirking, "Like what you see?" Her tone was extremely teasing, and a permanent smirk seemed to paint itself on her red lips. Jane noted the way the dark-haired woman's leg brushed against her own.

"I'm pretty sure you were staring at me first," Jane shot back, her own voice surprisingly teasing as well. The woman chuckled, and Jane placed her accent as middle-eastern. Israeli, maybe? Jane sipped once more at her drink, forcing back a wince at the taste.

The Israeli woman's eyes seemed to glitter in the dim lighting, "I guess I was. It was hard not to notice you, though." Her tongue pressed against her upper lip as she shamelessly mapped out Jane's body with her eyes. The detective was startled that she wasn't uncomfortable. Instead, the dark, husky promise in the other woman's eyes was sort of turning her on.

"Do you have a name?" Jane questioned, and the other woman chuckled. It was obvious she had been expecting this question. Her hand came to rest casually on Jane's jean clad knee, fingertips caressing the seam on the inner part of her thigh. This was moving hilariously fast, but Jane didn't really care. She needed something to relieve the stress from the last several weeks, and this woman seemed like the perfect escape.

The woman slid her hand slightly higher as she purred, "Names are not really important. But I guess if you need one, then you can call me Ziva." Jane offered her own name without protest, not in the mood to be mysterious today. Ziva's hand came up to rest just an inch or two from the top of her thigh, threateningly close to Jane's center.

Before Jane could whimper or slide the hand higher or do really anything, Ziva pulled it away. She stood, offering the hand that had just been on Jane's thigh. Jane accepted it, and she was pulled into the crowd of people on the dance floor. She had never been one for dancing (Except at home alone where no one could see her), but with Ziva's hand wrapped around her own, she felt the beat pulsing through her and she let it take over.

Time blurred, and images came in as snippets of lights and color and sound. They were dancing close together, skin touching, hips occasionally brushing. The beat of the music controlled their body movements as they pressed together, moving as one being. Jane couldn't clearly remember any of the songs. The only thing that really stayed implanted in her head was how warm Ziva's skin was and how soft the tendrils of her hair were as they brushed across Jane's skin.

It wasn't long until they were pressed as close together as possible, bodies melting into one. Ziva captured her lips in a desperate kiss, mouth opening against Jane's. It was messy and needy, tongues dueling as though the world would end at any time. Ziva tasted like a mixture of spices and something sort of fruity that Jane couldn't begin to decipher.

Jane wasn't sure of the events that transpired in between, but soon they were in a hotel room instead of at the bar. They were kissing again (Had they even stopped? Jane couldn't remember), and the detective never wanted it to end. Kissing a woman was different than kissing a man. Ziva knew exactly how hard to press and when. She knew how to weave her fingers through Jane's hair in a way that felt amazing and arousing all at once. There was no rough stubble on her chin. She wasn't too overeager but she didn't hold back, either.

The detective desperately wanted to free the other woman's body from her olive-colored dress. But she was too distracted by Ziva's mouth and she figured she could wait a minute or two longer. Jane had never been one to move this quickly. But she _needed_ this. Her whole body was throbbing in a ferocious want that she knew wouldn't go away until she got realease.

Air finally became a necessity, and the kiss broke. Jane went after Ziva's neck instead. She had never done anything like this with another woman before. Instincts were guiding her, and the dark-haired woman seemed appreciative enough. She moaned as Jane sucked firmly on her rapidly-fluttering pulse point, leaving a definite hickey.

Ziva's hands went to the edge of Jane's tank top, tugging it roughly from her jeans. Her hand slid past the hem, squeezing the detective's ass through her panties. Jane groaned against the dark-haired woman's throat. She then stepped backwards, freeing Ziva's hand from her pants. The woman stared at her, dark curls messy and falling into her face like secrets. Her brown eyes were nearly black with lust. She had kiss-swollen lips and a smattering of hickeys on her neck.

Jane desperately wanted to take off that dress. So she reached up, running her hand along the nape of Ziva's neck until she found the zipper. The detective gave a firm tug, and Ziva turned, giving her a better angle. A moment later, the garment fell to the floor, sliding off of the woman's body like water. There was a soft, fluttery whoosh as it piled itself neatly around Ziva's high heels.

Soon those were gone too, leaving the other woman in only a lacy, strapless black bra and matching panties. Jane was pulled into another kiss, feeling Ziva fumble with the button of her jeans as their tongues slid across each other. Soon her pants fell to the floor and she kicked them away. Her hands went to the Israeli woman's hips, pulling her closer as she took off her own sneakers with her toes.

The kiss broke long enough for the detective's shirt to be yanked over her head. Ziva then unhooked the front clasp of Jane's bra and it fell to the floor. It joined the other clothes, and soon Ziva's own bra and both of their panties were in the pile as well. Jane took a moment, studying the dark-haired woman in front of her. She could see the solid outlines of muscles, but she had softer, womanly curves. She was gorgeous, and Jane kissed her again.

Together, they tumbled on to the bed. Their limbs tangled as their lips connected once more, and Jane ran a hand up to palm Ziva's breast. The dark nipple pebbled under her touch, and the Israeli woman threw her head back and moaned appreciatively. After a moment, Ziva leaned down and took Jane's own nipple into her mouth.

The detective tangled her fingers in the other woman's hair, moaning weakly. She arched into the touch, head spinning as Ziva used every part of her mouth. Her whole body was hyper-sensitive, and the simple touches were driving her crazy. She wanted _more_ though. Her center was pulsing with need.

It wasn't like Jane had never had someone pay attention to her breasts before. But Ziva knew her limits, knew how much pressure to put in her touches, something men had no real idea about. And the foreign woman was also more aware of the things that felt the best. She played Jane's body like an instrument, driving her crazy.

Impatiently, Jane's hand trailed down Ziva's body, pushing her thighs apart. The other woman's hand wrapped around Jane's wrist. The detective slid two fingers through the soft folds of skin at the apex of Ziva's thighs and the Israeli woman's hand came down, caressing the insides of Jane's own thighs. Jane went to work rubbing her fingers firmly but not harshly against the other woman's clit, pleased by the wetness she found there. Ziva moaned, and Jane's body jerked as the other woman pressed two fingers inside of her without any preparation whatsoever.

Not one to be outdone, Jane slid two of her own fingers slowly into the other woman's heat. It was more intense than she thought it would be, feeling Ziva's walls tighten and pulse around the digits. Her tentative, late-night sessions with herself had never felt like this. The dark-haired woman was warm and wet and tight.

Jane's thumb started rolling over Ziva's clit as they set a rhythm, thrusting slowly and steadily. Their moans mingled together, gravelly and needy. Jane ran her fingers over Ziva's cheek, her wrist still captured in the dark-haired woman's hand. The detective's palm was pulled to Ziva's lips, a kiss pressed against the scar there. Then Jane's lips were captured again, this kiss even sloppier than the last few.

Every part of Jane's body was buzzing. She had never felt something this intense. Ziva knew exactly what she was doing, and Jane had a feeling this wasn't her first time with another woman. The detective was letting instinct guide her motions and the other woman seemed to enjoy it, judging by the way her inner walls pulsed and fluttered around Jane's fingers.

With each downward thrust, Jane started curling her fingers. The tips brushed across a spongy, raised area every time, and Jane figured it was the other woman's g-spot. Ziva threw her head back, letting out a loud, throaty moan. Her own thrusts sped up, thumb pressed firmly against Jane's clit. The detective let out a moan of her own before tugging Ziva into another kiss.

Pleasure coiled in Jane's stomach, and she knew she was close. Moaning against Ziva's mouth, her thrusts became desperate, erratic, and Ziva trembled against her. She was close too. Jane could tell by the way her hips moved jerkily against the detective's thrusts. They were both moaning rhythmically, and Jane momentarily felt a little bad for the people who were staying next to them. Then Ziva rubbed her thumb over her clit in a way that made Jane's entire body jerk.

Three more thrusts, and Jane felt herself break. Her own fingers pressed particularly hard into Ziva's heat, and the other woman joined her in orgasm. Jane let out an almost embarrassingly loud moan, feeling the muscles in her body twitch at each wave of pleasure. Her face buried in Ziva's hair, and she barely registered that the dark-haired woman was _definitely_ a screamer.

Jane's head was still spinning when Ziva slid her fingers from her heat, licking them clean with a wicked glint in her eyes. Jane removed her own fingers, letting her body relax as she mimicked Ziva's actions, licking the digits free of wetness. It tasted spicy and sweet at the same time, and Jane realized that she actually liked it.

They curled up under the sheets, and Jane pressed against the woman next to her. Ziva curled up against Jane's side, and the detective realized then how tired she was. Sleep tugged her eyelids down, and for the first time in four weeks, she wasn't all that afraid of Hoyt.

XXX

Jane woke the next morning, realizing immediately how cold and empty the bed felt. It took another moment before she remembered the details of the night before. An involuntary smile spread across her face, until she remembered the coldness. The detective opened her eyes, knowing without looking that the bed was empty. Kicking off the blankets, Jane sat up and found that Ziva's dress and heels were gone. The room seemed a lot emptier, and Jane felt a little upset despite herself.

She had known from the first instant their eyes locked that it would be nothing that a one-night stand. But it had been some of the best sex that Jane had ever had and she had half-hoped they would at least have this morning. A small sigh slid past her lips and she climbed out of bed, forcing herself into her clothes from last night. Walking into the bathroom, she splashed water on her face, finger-combing through her messy hair and studying herself in the mirror.

Hickeys decorated her neck. Her lips were bruised and still slightly swollen. Dark rings traveled under her eyes. She definitely looked like she had been too…preoccupied with other things to sleep properly the night before. Another sigh slid past Jane's lips. _This_was why she never had one-night stands. They were too complicated.

Jane was about to leave the room when she found the note on the bedside table. She picked it up, taking in the handwriting. The detective in her dissected it. It was neat yet scribbly, obviously written quickly. _I__have__picked__up__the__bill.__Thank__you__for__last__night.__-Z_

Quickly, Jane tucked the piece of paper into the pocket of her jeans. She wasn't going to allow herself to lose it. She wanted a way to remember last night.

Note or no note, though, Jane seriously doubted she'd be able to forget―even if she tried.

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